


Percy Jackson: Son of Zeus

by MasterTrident



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27465598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasterTrident/pseuds/MasterTrident
Summary: When Percy is young, he lashes out because of the abuse his mother faces, killing his stepfather Gabriel Ugliano. However, due to the rash actions he made, it resulted in his separation from his mother. Zeus, sensing an opportunity when he comes upon the boy unexpectedly, reaches out, and Percy's best friend seems not to be who she says she is. Percy x Artemis / PertemisCross-posted from FFN.
Relationships: Artemis & Percy Jackson, Artemis/Percy Jackson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

I sat in my bedroom, loud crashing and yelling coming from the adjacent room.

“You dumb bitch!”

Anger welled inside of my head; years of pent up psychological torture were slowly coming to a boiling point. The back and forth arguing between my mother and the man who called himself my stepfather. It was all the same, all the time. She treads on eggshells with feather light steps, and yet he would still find something to antagonize her or me over and over.

Even today, my seventh birthday, there was no reprieve, for this very monster called Gabe Ugliano decided as such.

Gabe Ugliano was a disgusting man. He was five and a half feet tall, sporting a portly beer belly large enough to make Sumo wrestlers look healthy. His most potent weapon was his smell. Gabe Ugliano smelled like a man who’d lived in a sewer for five years; I don’t think he’d ever once showered since he moved in with us, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he had black mold living in his pits.

The apartment was little better a state. My mother did her due-diligence to try to keep things clean in the time she had not working, but Gabe did the opposite. It was like he went out of his way to leave as much of a mess for her to clean after as possible; food scraps and broken glass littered the floor. Wallpaper was torn all over, leaving the underlying mold issue in this crusty old apartment for all to see.

Gabe had gone the extra mile and bought a bullwhip: with my mother’s money no less. When he did, he went on some tirade about asserting his dominance. Yet hilariously when he finally got it, he was too fat and lacking muscle to swing the whip to any effect – much less make it crack.

“Dumb Bitch!” I flinched as I heard his voice boom through the walls once again, “When will you learn to show some respect for-”

_CRACK!_

The sound resonated through the apartment. Distinctive and sharp. It wasn’t the bullwhip, but it sounded very similar.

“You fucking whore! I’ll make sure you pay for that!” His voice was a growl that rumbled through the walls. The sounds of the shuffling and struggle resumed, this time I could hear my mother grunt as she wrestled for control.

I stood, unsure of what to do.

I looked at my desk; there was only a blue Bic, some paper, and a sharp pair of scissors.

A loud cracking sound resounded through the air again, “Get off me you monster!”

No response came to that, but it only gave me more determination in my uncertainty. I wanted to help my mother – nothing would stop me.

I picked up the scissors, and the blue Bic and opened the door. Armed, scissors in one hand, biro in the other I stepped through the door quietly.

There.

I saw the man who had blighted our home for the past years. His belt was slack, and he was attempting to pin my mother against the moldy wall, met with copious resistance.

Creeping forward, neither of them could see, or hear me in their preoccupied states.

Suddenly I was filled with vindictiveness. I couldn’t think rationally, nor did I want to. I felt like I had been taken by the spirit of vengeance in a mad rush. Something egged me forward in the back of my head.

With a deep breath I stepped forward, scissors raised, and screamed, “Get off my mom!”

Sharply, and precisely I plunged the scissors into the side of his neck. My mother’s assailant cried out in pain, but I didn’t stop there as I took the blue ballpoint pen and jammed the sharpish point into his clavicle on the other side of the neck and stepped back.

“What in the!” He screamed at the top of his voice. If the whole block hadn’t heard what was going on before, they certainly did then.

Finally, my mother with a slightly stunned look shoved the man back off her, his blood already all over her clothes. He stumbled over a glass bottle that had been left on the floor, by himself no less, and lost his balance entirely. Then he careened into the coffee table, back first, with the unpleasant sound of both table legs, and his spine being snapped.

“FUCK!” He screamed and wailed at the top of his lungs, “FUCK! FUCK!”

In no more than five seconds he’d been sent from domineering over my mother to crying like a baby.

My mother looked at me, slightly shocked for a moment, and then looked at the man again. I couldn’t believe what I’d done.

Yet, I didn’t regret it.

I relished in it.

She visibly swallowed and said in a low tone, “Percy go back to your room and cover your ears.”

Whatever she was going to do, I didn’t need to be told twice.

I shut the door behind me and sat on my bed: hands on ears. Briefly, I could hear the sound of screaming once again, but it was muffled and quietened by my palms. This time, however, it wasn’t the sound of a woman calling out in desperation. No, this time it was a man screaming a bloodcurdling, pain-wrought scream.

Before long the sound was over, and I uncovered my ears. I could hear talking in a hushed tone from the adjacent room.

“Mom?” I decided to call.

It took a moment, but she replied loud and clear, “Just a moment honey.”

The longer I sat there, the more I had time to think about it.

Did I really do that?

I pinched myself. It stung. Like a cloud had lifted from my mind, the reality was finally coming unto me. A harsh one that I almost wasn’t prepared to accept.

I had just killed a man.

A billion thoughts raced through my head

Is this murder? Or is this self-defence?

Would I face a court trial for this?

Would my mother get in trouble for this?

And most of all.

I had just killed a man.

I looked down at my hands. They were red, and slick, giving off the smell of iron. I reached out to the tissues box that rested on my desk, untouched and pulled a couple of sheets out, rubbing my hands into them and watching as the red cleared away like I was trying to wash my hands of some dirty crime I’d committed.

I had just killed a man.

Did I feel bad about it? Or did I revel in the feeling of overthrowing my oppressor?

I didn’t know how much time had passed. I looked out the window, seeing the evening sky turning pink through the tall shadowy buildings of New York City.

Something told me I couldn’t stick around. A lingering feeling that I wouldn’t want to see what came next. Some small voice in the back of my head.

It was some minutes later when I could hear sirens. Nothing special for the Big Apple. Except I got the feeling then, more than ever, that I could not stick around.

Yet it became more and more apparent. The sirens weren’t just the usual.

They grew louder, and louder, as if several cars were all converging on this location.

I opened the door and saw my mother sitting on a wooden chair, shifting the landline phone nervously between hands. If she saw me coming in, she didn’t acknowledge me.

On the coffee table there was undoubtedly a pool of blood, but nobody.

She probably moved it to the kitchen.

“Mom, what’s going on?”

She looked at me with worried eyes for a moment, before standing up and embracing me tightly, “The police are coming, don’t worry, everything will be okay. Just do as they say.”

Her tone was doubtful, but she didn’t tell me that.

I asked, pressing for more, “What is going to happen?”

“Percy…” she trailed off and tilted her head to the side, “Percy things may not go well, but if you do as they say… it can’t possibly go too badly. Worst comes to worst…”

For a moment she didn’t say anything and just stared with wide worried eyes. She visibly gulped, “You’re going to have to live with some other people for a while.”

I knew where she was going. I’d met some kids who’d gone to them and they were always the worst ones.

The biggest bullies of the class.

“You don’t mean...”

The emotional wrecks of the class.

“A foster home?” I exclaimed, my eyes widening with how relaxed she seemed despite all that was happening.

“It won’t be for long Percy, and I can promise, it won’t be as bad as it has been here the past couple years,” she tried to convince me quickly, slight desperation clearly in her voice.

I didn’t respond.

For a moment, neither of us said anything. I wasn’t even sure there was anything else to be said. I just turned around slowly and went back in my room, a feeling of panic rising in my chest like bile was ready to spew forth.

I shut the door.

I couldn’t go to a foster home. There was no way.

What was there I could do though?

Could I stay with my best friend Cindy?

No, I couldn’t. I couldn’t impose on her family like that. That wouldn’t be right. Also, I didn’t think I could bear to find out what they’d think of my situation.

There was only one certainty in my mind; I had to get away. I could not be taken to a foster home. There was no way. I had heard of the treatment of these homes: that they could be rough, and torturous on the mind. And to have to bear through education on my own without my mother or Cindy to help me through my dyslexia or ADHD would probably drive me over the edge.

No.

I looked out the window, flashing blue and red lights were approaching. With a heave I pulled the window open, scrunching my nose as the familiar dirty air of New York washed over me with that unpleasant smell of soured milk. Backing up for a moment, I glanced around me. There wasn’t much time, I had to go.

So I picked my backpack off the floor from beside my bed and shoved a change of clothes into it. From under my bed, I took the small amount of money I had hidden away from Gabe’s prying eyes and shoved it into my jeans. My mom had given it to me, and I just saved it up as much as possible without ever knowing what I wanted to use it for.

On my desk I saw a wristwatch surrounded with ripped out of season wrapping paper from last Christmas. It was my birthday gift from my mom, too big, but I loved it still. Regardless, it was useful, so I shoved it into my left pocket.

With one last thought, I picked up another Bic pen and scrawled a note on a piece of paper from my notepad in my usual illegible handwriting.

_Sorry Mom,_   
_I can’t go into foster care._   
_I love you_   
_Percy_

It was simple, but with a moment’s rash afterthought, I added to it.

_Thank God he’s gone._

With slight satisfaction, I backed up.

I was ready to go.

The sound of sirens got louder by the second.

I had to go.

Quickly, I jumped out the window onto the fire escape, not bothering to test its structural integrity after years of neglect. Hefting the bag on my back, I was thankful that the downward portion of the escape was away from the window of the adjacent room my mother was in.

I couldn’t face right then.

Not like that.

I ran down the steps, all the way to the bottom with little care and didn’t hesitate to lower the ladder and scrabble down. A couple of bystanders were looking at me oddly, but I paid no heed and walked off briskly: head down, hood up.

No one would notice a 7-year-old boy wandering down the streets of Manhattan alone, wearing a hoodie. Sure it wasn’t too common to see, but people kept to their own business.

I was invisible. It was just another day in the City.

As I wandered down the road, I couldn’t help but feel sick. The loud sirens of the police cars had just passed by me. In the pit of my stomach, I felt like I was going to throw up. Everything felt weary, like the pressure of my situation was all weighing down on me, suffocating. I could barely keep going.

I had to find somewhere safe to hang out. At least for one night.

It was a Saturday afternoon. I scratched the back of my head, thinking of who I knew, drawing a blank.

I didn’t have many friends. School was not kind to me, being thrown out of pretty much every one I’d been to, along with my partner in crime: Cindy. And if she weren’t complicit in my crime, she somehow always found a way to worm her way into going to the same school as me.

Everything always came back around to her. Cindy. She’d been the only real friend I had since before kindergarten.

I didn’t really make any other friends along the way: most of the other kids would pick on me for being the odd one out. The dumb kid who couldn’t read and always failed to focus on any one thing for more than a minute. The kid who always got in trouble with the teachers. The kid who dumped the class into a pool of sharks, and blew up the school bus by accident. And the ones who didn’t despise me knew to keep their distance for fear of social suicide.

Not Cindy though.

Cindy stuck by, no matter what. She stood up for me, and I stood up for her. It was a coalition of sorts. And even if they’d say things behind our backs, no one would mess with us while we were together, or in range of one another. So we stuck together.

I pulled myself together, knowing where my train of thought was going.

There was only one option, and it was one I wanted to avoid for fear of awkward and uncomfortable questions. It was the sad reality of having no meaningful friends. I always had to rely on Cindy – too much so.

There was a payphone across the street. I fished in my pocket for a moment and pulled out a quarter. Standing straight, I crossed the road right as the light went green with perfect timing. Surprisingly it was empty. With a strong tug, I pulled the payphone door open and walked in the booth.

With shaking hands I inserted the coin and punched the number in like my mom had taught me to do. After a couple rings of the tone, the line was abruptly picked up.

“Hello?” the voice asked, young and female.

My voice caught for a moment. I didn’t know what to say. My gut was twisting and my mind was clouded.

Her voice rang through the receiver again, “Hello?”

“Hey Cindy, it’s Percy,” I started, pausing to try to steady my voice but she seemed to audibly brighten up.

“Oh! Percy! How are you? What’s up?” She asked.

I stumbled over my words for a moment before just saying as nonchalantly as possible, “Nothing much, doing alright. How are you?”

“That’s good, I’m doing well too,” she was enthusiastic and I could tell she was happy.

It only made it harder. I didn’t want to wander into her house and trample all over her good mood with my problems. Even if I didn’t say much, she would know something was up.

Cindy always knew when something was wrong with me. It was like some kind of psychic reaction she had. As if she could read my mind and tell what I was thinking.

“That’s nice to hear Cindy,” I said, trailing off slightly as I struggled for words as to what to say.

“So,” she paused as I was busy forming my words, “What’s going on Perce?”

I swallowed. There was nothing else I could do, I had no choice, “Do you think I can sleep over for the night?”

After a moment's pause, I scrunched up my face as I knew there was a question on the tip of her tongue, but thankfully she held herself back, “Sure let me ask my mom.”

I had to fish another quarter out with my other hand as the line went silent and I slotted it into the machine, hearing the sound as it dropped in.

“Hey, Percy?” I heard an older voice through the receiver. It was her mom. She was always a kindly woman towards me and it was like she knew all about each issue I faced in life.

“Hi Mrs. Panagos,” I said, trying to be respectful as always.

I could practically feel her smile through the phone, “You can sleepover anytime Percy, you should know that by know. You’re always welcome. Our house is your house.”

I couldn’t help the slight excitement that I got despite the bleak situation, and it seeped into my voice, “Thank you so much, Mrs. Panagos.”

Shuffling sounds were made as the phone was passed back to Cindy, “It was nice to hear from you Percy, I’ll see you soon then, yeah?”

I didn’t want to put the phone down, but the quarter was going to run out soon and it wouldn’t be that long, “Yeah see ya, Cindy, thanks.”

Letting out a heavy breath I didn’t know I was holding in, I re-docked the plastic phone on the machine.


	2. Chapter 2

Cynthia lived in a nice house. It was a far sight better looking and better feeling to be around than my neighborhood.

Quite often I would come to hang out with Cindy with little reason. She never asked, but she always understood.

It just felt safe.

I had barely cleaned myself up at all before coming. My hands still reeked with that iron smell, even without obviously looking like they were covered slick with blood only an hour ago. With my reflection in a window I had done my best to straighten out my hair but it was messy still. That was, in and of itself, not beyond me though.

On the way to Cindy’s, I picked up a small bag of mixed candy from the store. I didn’t really have an appetite for them at the moment which was probably extremely unlike myself, but it had practically become a tradition for us to bring each other candy to share.

Turning on the road where Cindy lived, I could feel a tingle run up my spine.

A bad feeling.

I looked around from where I stood, but there was no one in sight, save for a sleeping homeless man on the other side of the road. Yet, that was exactly what unsettled me. Why were there so few people around? It doesn’t matter that it was a relatively out of the way location – it was still New York City.

My pace quickened, I walked briskly towards Cindy’s place, still not seeing anyone come into sight.

I came onto her doorstep seeing the _PANAGOS_ mat that lay there. Looking around before proceeding I decided just to brush off the relative silence. It couldn’t have been anything terrible, right? Certainly nothing I would complain about to have a bit of peace and quiet. Instead, I picked up the brass doorknocker and slammed it down twice, producing a familiar _CLICK! CLICK!_ sound as metal struck metal. Listening close, I heard feet brushing cross the floor swiftly, growing in volume until it stopped dead by the door.

A second passed.

And another.

Then, with a snap, the door swung open wide revealing a familiar auburn-haired girl with a bright straight smile. She took one look before leaping forward and enveloping me tightly.

“Percy!” She exclaimed, sounding excited.

It took a moment, but I reciprocated and allowed a smile to reach my face as I felt her warmth, “Hey Cindy, I brought candy.”

A few moments later her mother came into view, a warm smile as always I had ever seen her with.

“Cindy, are you going to let our guest in, or are you going to just strangle him to death?” She asked, amused looking with a ‘knowing’ expression that Cindy told me annoyed her beyond belief.

“Of course,” she jumped back, seeming to have a physical reaction as if realizing just how affectionate she was being. Looking slightly taken aback, she commented, “You smell funny Percy.”

“Hey!” I looked at her in mock outrage, and complained, “What does that mean?”

Cindy giggled as she stepped back to the stairs, “Come on Percy.”

As always, I kicked my shoes off at the door. They were sticklers for cleanliness, and wearing shoes would most likely be a death sentence. I still remembered how Cindy scowled when she found out I wore shoes at home – ‘like a barbarian’ she had said. However, after a couple of visits, I’m sure she understood and she never commented again.

I followed her up the stairs as her mother looked at us bemusedly.

“We’ll be having dinner soon, don’t get too hung up there,” she called but we already rushed away, “And Percy, wash your hands. Don’t eat too much candy you guys!”

“Yes Mrs. Panagos,” I obliged and washed my hands in the bathroom – it was much needed regardless. Of course, as soon as Cindy tore the paper bag open we ignored the latter command.

Being in Cindy’s room was always weird. It didn’t look like other kids' rooms. She kept everything quite simple, even though they could obviously afford so much more than all the other kids. There was just an old desk in the corner that probably came from IKEA, with a comfortable desk chair, and a well made bed for one. Toys weren’t scattered everywhere like the few other kids I’d visited. I’m pretty sure I’m the only person she invited around.

It always somewhat inspired me. I would ask Cindy why she had so few toys and gadgets and she would just shrug and say she didn’t care about all those things that the other kids liked. All she had up here was a pellet gun, a dartboard that served as a painful target when the lead shot would ping off it and hit you in the face, and a pack of airplane playing cards. Well, it mostly hit me in the face – she never failed to hit where she wanted. The only thing of notable value was the tangerine orange clamshell iBook that she told me her mother got her for Christmas after she did chores for months, but I’d never actually seen her use it – it certainly hadn’t moved from its position the last time I’d seen it.

“Dibs on hearts,” she said popping one in her mouth with a smile and looking at me.

I looked at the mix and picked up a plain light brown block, “Well fudge is mine then.”

She ate through the candy much faster than me. My appetite for sweetness just wasn’t there, and that certainly wasn’t lost on her. Every time she would pick out another candy she would regard me closely as if searching for a reaction. Even taking a fudge in a very pronounced and obvious way like she was trying to get a rise out of me.

“What’s wrong?” She finally sighed, looking concerned as she scooted closer, giving up with the charades of trying to provoke reaction, “I haven’t seen you in what, two weeks? How’s it going?”

Cindy was always understanding, she wouldn’t push too hard if she could tell I was feeling uncomfortable. Although, I knew she would be suspicious: I would usually pour my soul out to her with little I would withhold.

I shrugged and brushed it off as nonchalantly sounding as I could, “Just the usual. Gabe being a dick and all y’know? Same old, same old.”

Oh, what I wished I could tell her.

“Oh,” she said, sounding slightly let down as if she wanted to hear more. She could always see right through me, which only made it hurt more when I lied.

“How was Greece?” I flipped the question, getting the topic off myself. Last I had seen her, she’d told me that she and her mother were going on a holiday overseas, “Were the old buildings cool? Did you see a human sacrifice?”

She blinked a few times, her expression unreadable. After a moment she grinned, but it felt strained, “Oh yeah, Greece was a looot of fun. Tons of ancient ruins and stuff. People don’t do human sacrifices anymore there Percy, but I did see an altar where they said it had been practiced way back. It was really cool.”

I got the feeling she was lying.

Something wasn’t right.

Before either of us could prod further with the conversation, her mother called, “Dinner’s ready!”

We both seemed to let out a sigh of relief, Luna dashing out of the room before me. I shoved the candy off to the side on her desk and followed her down to the kitchen.

Both of us sat at the dark oak table, Mrs. Panagos brought a large white ceramic dish of macaroni and cheese out of the oven with mitts on. She brought it to the dining table and set it on a cold wet dishcloth. It looked and smelled magnificent with a golden brownish color on the surface. Using a spatula she cut through it smoothly, revealing the creamy, cheesy pale yellow throughout. She took a huge portion out of the dish and placed it down with masterful precision on the plate in front of me, like a perfect rectangle with defined edges and vertices.

“Is that enough for you Percy? A growing boy needs all the calcium he can get,” she remarked, looking at me warmly.

“Definitely enough,” I grinned toothily. No matter how down I was, Cindy’s mom could always bring my spirits back up. She was just a bastion of warmth and heartiness, like nobody else I knew. Cindy’s mom was friendly and helpful, always full of wise advice. And the food she made was practically imbued with joy.

“Well there’ll always be more left over after if you still want more later,” she said, before serving up some for herself and Cindy.

When everyone’s plates were full I didn’t waste any time digging in. I was starving from everything that had happened with barely any food that day. In the morning I had barely eaten a bowl of oatmeal before the antagonism from Gabe began.

Cindy never failed to look shocked at how quickly, and how much I could eat.

“Boys,” I heard her mutter, “You’re all the same. How do you eat so piggishly?”

“Hey, you heard your mom,” I’d barely swallowed a mouthful of food as I spoke, “A growing boy needs his food.”

She rolled her eyes as she dug into her own macaroni.

“Well, I’m glad you enjoy it so much Percy,” Mrs. Panagos smiled.

I nodded vigorously as I chewed, “It’s delightful.”

A few minutes of comfortable silence passed as we ate, giving me some time to savor the taste of cheddar on my tongue.

“School’s back soon,” Her mother said, “Did you manage to get into the same school again this year Percy, or are you moving on again?”

Cindy snorted loudly, “What do you expect? He dumped the class in the shark-tank last year.”

She looked particularly amused by that, “Ah yes, the shark-tank.”

Cindy pointed with her fork, “What was it you said? The sharks were talking to you?” She laughed at me again. Since it happened she wouldn’t let me live it down, and although she was herself dumped into the tank. When it happened she wasn’t as terrified as the rest of the kids.

“Hey!” I complained, “I swear they were. They told me to pull on the lever, and nothing bad would happen. Who keeps a lever to dump people into a shark tank where people can easily reach it anyway?”

“Well, it obviously wasn’t there to dump people in.”

“How would I have known?” I scoffed shrugging with my arm wildly.

“Well, I’m sure Percy’s learned his lesson now,” Her mother lowered her face and fixed me with a smile, “Don’t pull on random levers in an aquarium. And maybe on cannons too.”

I didn’t respond, just looking away slightly sheepish.

“How has the past couple weeks been?” She asked changing the topic, and I could see Cindy leaning in from the corner of my eyes. Just looking at Mrs. Panagos’s face I wanted to spill it all out. Tell the troubles, confess my crime. But I held my tongue and tried flipping the topic again.

“Oh you know, same as always,” I waved it off, “How was your holiday? Cindy was telling me all about that human sacrifice you guys saw. Was it cool?”

Mrs. Panagos looked at Cindy curiously and she was stilled, “Wait what? Cynthia?”

I giggled as she gave just about the most intelligent response I’d ever heard from her, “Huh?”

They both looked at me confusedly as I started laughing. The expression on their Cindy’s face was priceless.

“I did not!” she protested, “No such thing happened!”

“Cindy have you been telling Percy fibs?” her mother looked amused.

“What? No,” she gasped, “I would never!”

Mrs. Panagos was about to say something else, but three loud clicks of metal rang through the house.

Someone was at the door.

Both Cindy and her mother had frozen rigid. I swallowed another mouthful of macaroni before cleaning my face with a paper napkin.

“Is something wrong?” I asked as they had a war of stares.

_CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!_

The doorknocker reverberated through the house once again.

“Coming!” Mrs. Olympia called and stood up without responding to my question.

She disappeared into the hallway, leaving us sitting in the kitchen awkwardly.

“What was that about?” I asked, and Cindy just looked at me with the same look of frozen confusion she had when the door was first knocked.

She stood and went to stand by the kitchen door. I followed closely but she gave me an angry look as if I shouldn’t. Of course, I ignored her and placed my ear next to the wood as well.

“Sister, I don’t know what to do,” A male voice said through the sound of a windy breeze. The door was held from opening only by our position eavesdropping. I could see Cindy’s face pale as she listened on. Never before had I seen such an utter look of terror on her face.

“Brother,” I heard Mrs. Panagos’s voice. My own eyes were wide, I had never before met any of Cindy’s extended family, “Thalia’s fate is not on you.”

“But I could have done more!” The man sounded despaired, “I could have done so much more.”

“It was out of your hands.”

“It wasn’t though!” An unnatural crackling sound that sent shivers up my spine was audible. It was like the sound that came from overhead power-lines in damp weather with the biting smell of ozone that came from welding.

Then I could hear Mrs. Panagos’s voice with the slightest hint of anger I hadn’t heard from her before, “Brother! Calm yourself before I send you away! This is my home, I will not tolerate that!”

There was a brief moment of silence. The two said nothing but we could assume that the man was trying to control his temper.

“I’m sorry Hestia,” he finally apologized to her, “I am losing my mind. My wife… she hasn’t had anything nice to say, but nor has she antagonized me over this.”

Hestia?

I had never heard her first name before. It was just like that Greek goddess from the stories my mom had read me. So much about her was exactly like that goddess was described as well.

“Just be sure it does not happen again,” she said.

“What should be done though? Barnacle’s son is now most likely going to be the child of the prophecy, young as he is. He dotes on that boy. Just like his son of old. Goodness knows what he would do if he found out something happened to him. He must only be, what, five now?”

I backed away from the door. I felt like I was way in over my head listening to the conversation. Cindy continued to listen like she was glued to the door, but her eyes were visibly wide with terror. There was something she wasn’t telling me about her family.

Stupidly, I didn’t look where I was going. Walking backward, I stumbled over the chair which Cynthia had left out, falling on my back with a loud slam as the chair tumbled with me.

“Ow!” I couldn’t help but cry out as the chair smacked me in the face in its tumble.

“Percy!” Cindy exclaimed, abandoning her position to rush over and check on me.

Louder, I could hear the man’s voice again as he asked my host, “I’m sorry, did you have company? I was not aware.”

The door swung open with the light breeze now that Cindy was no longer there to hold it still.

Cynthia froze stiff as she stood to face the man in the door. Her face was terrified, and yet she said nothing.

The man wore a pinstriped suit with an electric blue shirt underneath that was unbuttoned near the top with a messy tie hanging from his neck. He had clearly been upset about something: the sclera of his eyes were red and bloodshot, with dark bags beneath.

He stared right at me, and then looked at Cindy confusedly before his eyes settled on me once again – piercing with an electric fright.

“That’s impossible.”

While Cindy was frozen solid I decided to make the first move. Standing up, I moved to hold out my hand, “Hi, I’m Percy. I’m… Cindy’s friend.”

“Hello, Percy, friend of… Cindy,” the man managed and shook my hand without much vigor before giving Mrs. Panagos an extremely confused look.

“It’s a long story,” was all she said, although she offered a smile which was possibly the only one I’d ever been unsure about from her. The man shook his head, stepping back.

“Of course.”

“Well?” She asked without specificity.

“I…” he shook his head again, flustered, “Too much has happened today, I need to think… And maybe consult my wife. Do some soul searching or something…”

His voice trailed off.

“Yes, do that.”


	3. Chapter 3

I stuck around for another half a day after sleeping over, but for some reason just couldn't feel comfortable staying another, however much they would protest it was fine. Cindy didn't elaborate much on her uncle, but she looked visibly perturbed by his presence. At times throughout the day she looked distant, as if paying attention to something else. I would ask her about something only for her to blink at me for minutes at a time as if she had turned into a vegetable.

Clearly, something about me was stressing her. I wanted desperately to know what troubled my friend, but it was to no avail.

Her mother was still friendly throughout, but I got the impression very quickly that she was worried as well.

So I had left without much to say after plinking at the target using the pellet rifle mostly wordlessly with Cindy for hours.

On the way out I noticed the silence had passed, and the mildly frightening experience I had on the previous day was gone. It felt safe again to be on the road.

The evening came fast. I went to a cheap burger restaurant for dinner, getting a cheeseburger with fries and a medium cola that could hopefully last me the night. Thankfully the server didn't ask any questions, obviously not one to care what some kid was getting or doing.

Looking around, I saw most of the restaurant was empty. I scooted up to a round table in the corner of the room and collapsed into the seat ungracefully, putting the food on the table.

Quickly, I unwrapped the burger halfway and kept it from contacting with my dirty hands using the grease-proof paper. I took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the beef mingling with the cheap cheese. It was familiar, and I supposed that was a good thing.

I looked at it for a moment. It was probably actually horse meat. Something about that thought was off-putting, but I shrugged.

Meh, who cares. I'm hungry.

The burger tasted good, although by no measure could it ever compare to the flavors of Mrs. Panagos's cooking that I'd been a guest to just that morning and the evening prior. I wouldn't let that get me down though. Still, I devoured the food ravenously.

Munching through the burger, I failed to notice the lady who approached me. She sat down on one of the seats opposite and looked at me. I was slightly startled when I noticed her. How the heck did she just appear before me, silent as a ghost while I was eating?

Looking at her, she looked similar to Mrs. Panagos with the strong straight nose that was apparently a characteristic of her Greek heritage, and large almond-shaped chocolate brown eyes. Her face was not as warm, but it showed fewer signs of age. Quite conversely – she looked much younger with flawless smooth skin. She sat postured, back straightened stiff as she crossed her legs.

"Where are your parents, young one?" she asked and I froze solid. She couldn't know, could she?

"Not here," I just shrugged, and she hummed in thought.

She regarded me from across the table. It was unnerving, but she made no move as if to harm me, "I expected as much."

I didn't say anything, barely glancing over my cheeseburger at the woman. I wasn't sure if I should have been calling stranger danger or something of the sort. The woman made no hint as to what she was doing here, and it made my stomach churn. If it could be avoided, I would have preferred not to make a big scene that could get the police involved: especially with my current situation being on the run.

"Does your father know you're here?" She asked. It was both an innocuous and creepy sound question at the same time.

"I never met my father," I answered truthfully nonetheless, "Lost at sea, or something…"

She seemed to be expecting my answer, but something had obviously piqued her interest. Whatever it was, she buried it and at least tried to appear sympathetic, "Too many fatherless children these days."

I bit into my burger again and nodded very barely in silent agreement.

"Well," She stood up, and with a deft hand slid me fifty bucks in five-dollar bills, "Good luck then, Perseus."

It took a moment to register.

Wait.

I froze, seeing only the woman before me walk away, heels clicking on the ground loudly in a way I shouldn't have missed earlier, before…

Silence.

I looked to where she should have been and stood, but there was nothing there.

"What the Hell?" I asked out loud, drawing a couple uncouth looks from a pair in the next booth. Picking up the money, I flicked through it with my fingers.

It felt solid.

It felt real.

How is that possible? This couldn't just be a cruel trick of my imagination, could it?

When I looked at the money, my mind immediately went to food, but I suppressed those thoughts – there were more essential things.

A sleeping bag for one.

Taking the bills as discreetly as possible, I folded them flat and tucked them away into my sock. It wasn't the best solution, but I wasn't about to have it in my pocket where it could be easily picked. Then, as if nothing had happened at all, I finished my burger. The fries were salty and greasy; not particularly hot, but still warm enough.

The cola was just the good old sugary kind. Health wasn't exactly at the forefront of my mind when I would have to be homeless and starving – I needed the calories to survive.

_SLURP!_

I let out a sigh of disappointment as my cup bottomed out noisily. I guess it didn't last me the evening as I'd hoped it would.

Before coming into the restaurant I'd seen a Sports-Mart just next-door. Throwing my trash away, I was quick to leave the restaurant and get to the store.

It wasn't a big store on the inside. I naturally found myself gravitating towards the swimming and fishing sections, but I forced myself to pay no attention to it. My mother had tried her best to take me to the pool, but between her job, and Gabe's demands it was always more a luxury than a given.

And fishing? Well, she always told me my father loved fishing, but never said anything more than that.

"Camping… Camping…" I muttered to myself in a low chant-like way as I searched for the section. I passed by a hunting section where there was a fancy looking crossbow displayed proudly in a glass case.

"Cindy would find that cool," I remarked to myself, before looking at the price tag. I knew it would forever be way out of my price range, yet my eyes still bugged.

Two thousand dollars?

I snorted and looked on to see the camping section was right beside the hunting one, with a large graphic picture of what looked like a wood-fire in the night. There were a lot of examples of sleeping bags arrayed hanging on hooks with the rolled bags on a shelf below them. I was no less lost looking at all of the choices of bags as I was before I'd found camping. Different weights, brands, materials, and codes that just amounted to complete gibberish to me. I went for a medium-weighted bag that was inexpensive but was still comfortable enough… to look at.

It was plain black, with nothing fancy or interesting to it. I plucked the roll off the shelf and brought it over to the empty till where a bored-looking blonde lady clerk stood.

"Hello, and welcome to Sports-Mart," she sounded less than enthused, "Just taking the sleeping bag?"

I didn't really plan on making any conversation, so I just nodded my head silently, reaching up to hand it over the counter. She hummed to herself as she flipped it in her hands, looking for the bar-code.

_BEEP!_

She found it, "Would you like a bag?"

"No just the receipt please."

"Alright," she tried to give a smile before clicking a couple buttons on her point of sale, "That'd be $17.99."

I reached down into my sock, out of her sight, and pulled out the folded money. Fiddling with it, I eventually thumbed out four bills and handed them over.

"Twenty dollars," She muttered to herself as she opened her till before cursing to herself and turning to the nerdy looking guy who sat next to her on the next point of sale, "Hey Jerry, got any dollar bills left?"

The man looked startled when she spoke to him and I couldn't help but roll my eyes as I stifled a laugh, "Yeah, how many do you need, Brooke?"

"Just five for now," she handed one of the fives I gave her off to the man who took it while muttering something inaudible under his breath as he passed five singles back to her.

"Thank you, Jerry," she said in an obviously teasing way. The guy looked like he practically had a heart attack as he turned away.

Face still flustered, he called to an old lady who stood in the line, "Uh, next."

"Here you go, sweet," she smiled, seemingly satisfied with having entertained herself by teasing the guy as she handed the sleeping bag over with the receipt and change.

"Thank you," I responded, pursing my lips to stifle the laugh that threatened to split my face. I shoved the receipt and remaining cent into my pocket and bent down to tuck the bills away in their discreet location again.

"Have a nice evening," the lady said, before glancing over my shoulder at the next customer.

Taking the sleeping bag, I rushed out of the store and reevaluated the time. It was still bright out with the hot summer air. The air was never really dry – the city was right next to the ocean after all. Something about the humidity made most other people choke, but I never felt better. Whatever problem they had with it, was not something I could sympathize with.

I wondered where I would go next. A homeless shelter? No, they would turn me over to the police just because of my age. Perhaps I could go and hang out in Central Park for the night. After that? Well, the park keepers would probably kick me out, and living in a city park I would probably be noticed at some point.

Why is that kid sleeping here every day? Where are his parents?

That sort of stuff, I would prefer to avoid.

Maybe I could go to Montauk. It would be a long walk, but I knew exactly the way there. My mom had taken me every summer since I could remember. Others wouldn't look at it as the best beach around, but it was special to us. She never told me why we went to that beach specifically, she would just get a faraway look in her eyes and stare off into the horizon.

However, Montauk was not an extremely populated area. The chances of begging there if and when needed with much success would be incredibly low. Although, perhaps in the summer the few other beach-goers who choose to go there would drop me a few pennies.

Being a kid would help with that, right?

So my initial plan was set. First stop: Central Park.

Perhaps along the way I can pick up a hot dog or something…

No.

I cannot.

I stamped the thought out in my brain as soon as it came. My money was limited, I would have to ration it as best I could.

I walked slowly, my mind drifting back to the lady in the burger place. She had come as if from out of nowhere, silent like a ghost. Her eyes were warm, and motherly, although there was an undertone of darkness contained within that was not lost on me; quite unlike Mrs. Panagos's. For all their similarity in appearance, she somehow seemed entirely different. The way she had regarded me was intrusive, creepily so, but something about her just made me think of my mother.

However, she was still beyond creepy. She knew my name. Not just the nickname I went by and preferred, but my actual forename. The name of my namesake. It was beyond me how she possibly could. I had never seen her before in my life.

Did she know my mother? If she did, why would I have never met her? Or perhaps she knew Cindy's mom? Even then, both of them knew and Percy only – and have done so since we met in kindergarten.

No, there had to be more to it.

_BEEEEEEEP!_

I jumped in fright and leaned backward as a taxi passed by me, full speed ahead with its horn still blaring. Had I been moments slower to react, I would be a splat on the tarmac.

No more daydreaming.

* * *

As I came into Central Park, I once again got that tingling feeling I had the previous day outside Cindy's house.

Something was off.

It was quiet, but not silent like the day before. I decided to stick to the lit paths for the moment where there were still other people milling around. This was one of the few areas in the city where sunlight was not entirely restricted by buildings, but it had fallen sufficiently in the sky such that the lights were needed.

Looking around, nothing was particularly out of order. A few park keepers were milling around. Other kids rushed for the last call at the ice cream vans and carts with their parents. It was a sight I looked on enviously. Every minute I spent with my mother I cherished. Normalcy was beyond our lives. Outside of the short trips to our rough cabin in Montauk, I didn't remember having ice-cream since I was a toddler. Those short excursions with the few holidays my mother had were the small blessings of my childhood.

And just yesterday I had put an end to that. All it took was a swift jab with a pen.

My mom had wanted to send me to a boarding school for the following year with the promise that it would get me away from Gabe. Goodness, as much as I hated school with a burning passion, I was only now realizing how much better the normalcy of it would be.

Would I be better off if I hadn't killed Gabe?

I bit my tongue and shook my head to myself.

No, I can't think that way. My absence would just have been my mom's misery.

No.

I made the right choices. He was about to hurt her again. What kind of son would I be if I allowed that?

I looked away from the ice-cream carts, I couldn't let the temptation overcome me and make me spend money on a worthless snack like so. The chime of ice cream still jarred my ears tauntingly, as if it were just out to mock me.

My pace quickened, I wanted to get away. As I walked I saw a discarded newspaper on the ground and bent over to pick it up and stood in place for a moment. Eyes scrunched up, I could barely make out 'August 17th, 2000'. The page was flipped to a sports page, and I could see the picture of a footballer dramatically catching the ball. Everything else was just garbled gibberish to me.

"Jumbo lemonade touchdown scores a hot-dog for the eight ball," I said aloud as I read the article's title, and blinked. That was how everything looked to me. Completely nonsensical, and incoherent. Tossing the paper aside I continued until I found a wooded area.

The sky was already getting dark. Even with the lingering bad feeling I got, there was no way I could possibly sleep near all the lights. The feeling returned as soon as I veered off the path.

I was probably just being paranoid right?

I found a nice looking tree and began to unroll the sleeping bag. It would be a long day of walking the next day, and I was already exhausted just from walking to Central Park. There was nothing else for me to do and the sky was barely lit.

Then, I thought I heard a giggle to my left.

I looked.

There was nothing there.

Shaking it off, I set my backpack on the ground where I could rest my head on it under the sleeping bag as a crude and uncomfortable sort of pillow.

That was when I heard the giggle again.

I couldn't be imagining that, could I?

"Hello?" I called out into the deepening darkness. There was no response and I started feeling unnerved, "Hello, is someone there?"

Was this what was giving me the bad feeling?

"Hello, Half-Blood," a female voice said to my right before she seemed to break down in a giggling fit.

Half-Blood?

"Who are you?" I asked, looking to where the voice came from and seeing a girl, roughly my own age with skin a coppery bronze color like people Cindy had said were from Persia when we looked in textbooks. Her eyes were of a unique caramel amber color I had never seen before in someone's eyes.

"Be calm, Half-Blood, we will not harm you," another voice said from my left. The speaker's face was pale and white, almost like a ghost, with light blonde hair and eyes of onyx. She was probably a year older than the other at most.

"Why are you calling me that?" I asked and they both laughed at my question with a bright musical sound.

A new voice introduced itself, directly behind me, her voice in a lower register than the other two in a more matured sound, "You will find out in time, young one."

I looked behind me and saw another girl who looked extremely similar to the first, just a little taller and probably closer to eleven, maybe even twelve. She had a playful but relaxing smile.

"You don't have to worry Half-Blood. We will look after you for tonight. You were followed here, but do not fret, you will be safe with us." the girl approached and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. With a light press of the hand, she guided me down to the ground. Perhaps I should have been more suspicious, but they were reassuringly nice.

What did she mean I was followed though?

"A lullaby please, Birch," her sister said as she nudged me to lie in the sleeping bag. Most of my apprehension was lost as the girl began to sing in an unfamiliar language.

The two coppery toned girls hummed an accompanying tune. I wanted to protest and ask more about what she said about me being followed, but the lullaby was enchanting even though I couldn't understand what was being said. Something about it just demanded I submit to the night.

I could feel myself losing grip. I yawned and laid back, placing my head against the bag as I obliged to the spell.

"Good night, Half-Blood," the younger copper girl said, breaking her tune shortly, and everything was going dark. Her smile was reassuring, giving me slight ease as my vision faded.

After my vision was all but gone, I muttered quietly, "Good night."

I could still hear the lullaby. It was soft and the melody swayed with the light feeling of a breeze. Slowly all sound wound down, getting quieter and quieter.

Until suddenly it was gone, and in the darkness replaced it a bright cloud with the tune of birdsong that melded with the sounds of people conversing loudly in the background. In the clouds I saw two faint silhouettes, both men, one had the butt of a trident planted in the ground like he was using it as a quarterstaff.

"What of your son, brother," the man without the trident asked, all the rest of the sounds growing dimmer as his strong voice spoke, is he doing good?"

The silhouette raised the trident with a guarded appearance and asked, "Is this about your daughter? I swear I had nothing to do with it, and if you dare touch-"

"I will not do anything to your son," the man cut him off, raising his hand and looked away. The silhouette with the trident calmed down for a second. I remembered from some science textbook that Cindy had helped me through that the trident was a fishing implement, designed to counteract the effects of some weird water refraction thing when looking at it from above the surface. She said that someday I might learn to use one, although she preferred the idea of netting fish.

_It's a more graceful, pragmatic method,_ she had told me, before quipping _and it's less savage._

_Are you calling me a savage?_ I had asked challengingly, to which she just laughed. The memory gave me some brief amusement.

"Good," the man said, the vision of my memory vanishing again.

"How old did you say he was?"

"Five," the trident wielder puffed his chest as if proud. I couldn't see their faces because of the silhouette abstraction, making it impossible to tell what either of them was thinking.

"Indeed," the other man stroked his beard, "Is there anything else?"

The silhouette of the fisherman tilted its head, and sounded genuinely confused, "What could you possibly mean by that?"

The other man hmphed, slumping back on an armchair that appeared out of nowhere, looking down. No words were said for a few moments, and the fisherman planted the trident's butt directly in the ground in front of him, leaning into it.

"For what it's worth, brother, I'm sorry for what happened to your daughter," he eventually said, and the sitting man shook his head.

"Don't be sorry. She's my failure, just be sure you do better by yours than I by mine," he said, standing again and walking out of the picture. The cloud evaporated, and the vision was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

I looked around. The place was next to some house in a warm looking climate. The sky was tawny, and the air was dry. I could hear yelling. It was back and forth, audible but unintelligible. Clearly whoever was screaming had gotten worked up to the point of losing her mind with yelling.

Then with a loud slam, the door of the house swung wide open, colliding with the inner wall of the entrance. A girl stormed out, hair black as night and eyes as blue as the clear daytime sky, looking a few years older than me.

"I'm leaving!" she screamed back at the house, her voice obviously raw from yelling.

Another woman came out of the house, a crazed look in her bloodshot blue eyes with disheveled, rough blonde hair. However, if not for her look of madness and insanity, she could have been quite beautiful… Possibly even a TV star.

"Yeah, you leave!" she screamed at the girl, "It's all your fault! It's your fault he's gone. It's your fault your brother's dead!"

"Fuck you!" the girl screamed back, language crude, voice straining, "FUCK YOU! You turned him over to that woman! Your rotten personality is why he's gone! It's all YOUR fault! Goodbye forever, you horrible excuse for a mother!"

"If you step one foot beyond that boundary, you're never coming back in here!" her mother screamed, wild-eyed and somehow more livid than just a moment before, "You hear me? ONE step!"

The girl obviously didn't even care anymore, tears trickling down her face as she walked away with just the occasional swipe to clear them. She only stopped to turn around and flip an obscene gesture back at her mother who promptly slammed the door shut, and there was the distinctive clinking sound as the heavy solid lock on the door was turned.

Then, the girl finally broke down fully, crying as her demeanor of toughness and anger faded entirely as she walked with wobbly knees. It was a gut-wrenching sound to hear. The sound of a girl who lost everything, and had a mother who clearly despised her existence.

I wanted to go to comfort her, but I was locked in place by the dream. Simultaneously I felt like I could both empathize with her situation, and not relate at all. It was so foreign for me to see, right before my eyes, the hatred she received from her own mother.

Who is this girl?

Why am I being shown this? Is this my brain trying to cope with my circumstance, and reassure me that it could be worse? Yet, it felt like so much more. It felt so much deeper to witness this than just the ordinary dreams that I got. This felt so grounded in reality.

The sobs faded into a buzzing silence but the scene did not change as I heard a voice break through.

"Half-Blood?" it said. I almost thought it was something inside the dream, but I regained some small control of my body…

I felt warm, but my back was stiff and painful. I grumbled and turned on my side as the dream faded, away from the bright light that started to penetrate my eyelids.

"Good morning, Half-Blood," the voice said again, more clearly this time and my eyes shot open, just to be blinded by the sun low in the sky brightly shining through the trees. I sat upright and looked to my left, with my hand over my brow as a shield from the sun to see the same coppery skinned girl as had wished me a good night.

"Oh, hey," I said to the girl, collecting my bearings as I tried to re-calibrate with my surroundings and the identity of the girl.

"Hello, Half-Blood," she said shyly with a light smile, "Did you sleep well?"

"Splendidly," I said, and groaned as my back clicked, working the kinks out from sleeping on the ground. After a moment I actually reconsidered my response – there was nothing particularly splendid about it. All I dreamed of was some dubious figures in clouds, the conversation from which I barely remembered, and then a dream of a crazed mother with her daughter storming off before promptly breaking down in anguish. It could have been worse, as far as my dreams and nightmares went. The final dream felt especially significant to watch for some reason. I felt compelled to speak about it, "Well, there was something in my last dream."

"There was a girl," I paused and thought for a moment how I would describe it, barely noticing the look on her face.

She sounded slightly down from what I'd said, but my mind was too occupied by the dream, "Oh, you were dreaming of a girl."

"It's just," I clicked my tongue, "It was some girl I've never met whose mother was screaming at her like a demon. The girls ran away from her home… Something about the dream felt more real than all my others."

"Oh?" the girl said, sounding at least a bit interested now, before she shrugged, "Half-Blood dreams can be interesting. They can mean many things."

"Why do you keep calling me that?" I asked. Half-Blood – what could that possibly mean. It sounded crude, and almost like a slur, yet she'd titled it as if it were good.

"If you don't know, you'll find out eventually," she said, echoing what I'd assumed was her sister the previous night, "What would you rather I call you?"

"Percy is fine."

"Percy?" she asked and giggled, "I've never heard of someone named Percy before."

"Oh, it's short for Perseus," I said and gave her half a smile, "What's your name then?"

"I'm Maple," she said, and I blinked for a moment.

"Like the syrup?" I asked and she nodded vigorously with a smile as sweet as the thought. Just the thought of the sweet liquid almost made my stomach rumble with desire for blue pancakes I knew I would never again have.

"Yeah, exactly," she said.

Then, behind her, I saw two other girls approaching, the two who had been here the previous night. One literally looked like a carbon copy of Maple, except with a couple years added.

"Oh, he's up," the older girl said, holding a box, "That's good, I brought breakfast."

"That's Birch," Maple said to me, referring to the girl who had sung last night, with her pale skin.

"That was a great lullaby," I complimented her, and she smiled with a knowing wink at Maple.

"And I'm Maple," the older girl said, giving me pause. Did she just say her name was Maple? She had to be messing with me – right?

"Wait, what?" I blinked as they all laughed at me, "So your last name is Maple then?"

"No," they both responded.

As younger Maple giggled at my confusion, the elder said, "Our first names are both Maple."

"Are your parents Canadian or something?"

"Something like that," the elder said and sat down with the box in her hands, a smile spread on her lips, "Mom's from Vermont, but dad's Canadian."

"That must get confusing," I shuddered at the thought of having a little brother called 'Percy' shadowing me everywhere, looking and acting exactly like a younger version of me.

"Yeah, you can call me Sarah though," elder Maple said, before jerking her thumb at her sister, "She's Maria."

"Cool. So can I just call you Maria and Sarah then?"

"That's what I do," Birch chipped in, "Maria doesn't like that though, she prefers Maple."

"No!" Maria jumped in, her face glowing with a flush. Something was lost on me, but she always seemed to be embarrassed, shy, and flushed, "I mean, Maria's fine Percy. I like it."

Birch snorted loudly but didn't say anything as Maria's older sister seemed to be laughing at her plainly. I was taken aback by their familial antics. It reminded me of my friendship with Cindy slightly, but there was never a third friend or sibling; it was just the two of us joking, laughing at, and teasing one another lightheartedly.

"Have a donut," Sarah gestured to the box that had a graphic that read: Holly and Bart's Donut Orchard – Warning: Watch out for donut thieving pegasi!

I'd never heard of the shop before, but there was a first time for everything and I would certainly not refuse a donut. The warning about thieving pegasi was a little weird, but horses like apples, right? Apples come from orchards... I think? Reaching out, I plucked one round glazed donut which looked like it had a filling in it after they had already started eating, "You guys eat donuts for breakfast?"

"Oh yeah," Sarah said, licking the sugar off her fingers with delight, "It's perfectly healthy I tell you."

"That's awesome, I could live with that kinda diet," I approved and they snickered. Biting into the donut, the glazed icing broke perfectly as my teeth cut through it. The glazing was immediately sweet beyond belief, yet not in a way that was overpoweringly so. And then the filling. It was a strawberry filling like none other I had ever had. Sweet, and flavorful, the jelly was obviously made with the best fresh strawberries around.

Oh that was good.

That was really good.

"Mmm," I hummed in satisfaction, "Where is this donut shop? I must go there some other day."

They looked at each other and seemed to silently agree on something.

Birch looked back at me with a smirk, "We're withholding that information."

"What?" I was slightly crestfallen, "WHY? I must know. This is amazing."

They giggled at my enthusiasm with the donuts, Maria teasing, "Yes, we know. Now we got the key to that information."

I made a show of throwing up my arms with an exaggerated sigh, "Girls… You're all impossible. Getting between me and good food."

They had all begun eating a second donut by the time I finished my first. The taste was just something that had to be savored and relished in. As soon as this was over, I would not taste this again until they surrendered that information to me. However, I knew more important things were at hand.

"So," I began, dropping into a more serious tone as I garnered their attention, "Why are you helping me?"

"You looked lost," Maria said, and scooted closer again, "We know who… and what you are, so we felt obliged to help."

"Who and what?"

Birch gave her a warning look and Maria just smiled with tight lips without saying any more.

"Well, I'm very grateful," I stood up as I bit into my second donut, stretching my legs and torso, "Unfortunately I cannot repay you, but-"

"Oh, no!" The elder sister interrupted me, "You don't have to repay us. This is just the least hospitality we could give."

"Even still," I tried to argue against it but Sarah cut me off.

"Absolutely not. You do not owe us. Just…" she glanced at Maria in particular for a moment before continuing, "Wherever you go, do visit us sometime. It gets boring some days with just the three of us around."

I blinked and looked between them all. They all seemed to share her expression of sincerity, "Of course, I would love to visit. Where can I find you though?"

"Oh, we're always here," Maria said, giving me a nervous smile, "Anytime, just drop by."

"Always here?"

"You'll understand eventually," Birch gave me the same ambiguous answer as they always did as she looked around at our surroundings nervously, "Do be careful though. Something is following you, and it only did not attack last night because you were not alone."

A chill ran down my spine. I recalled how they had me relax and go to sleep the night before. Looking around into the wooded area, I couldn't see anything else that looked like it was going to jump me. Whatever it was, that must have been the feeling I had sensed the day before as well as outside Cindy's place. But why would something follow me?

"Any recommendations where to go?" I asked and Sarah raised a brow.

"Why, where else but to camp of course!"

"Camp?"

"You don't know?"

I looked at her blankly before she sheepishly looked at the other two, "This is probably why she told us to say nothing."

Maria barged in before I had the chance to think about who she was, "Well, anyways Percy, you could stay here if you like, right sisters?"

Birch snickered quietly, "Yeah I'm sure you would love that Maria, eh?"

I looked at the three girls before me and sighed. They all seemed enthusiastic about the idea of me hanging around; however, in the back of my head, there was just a nagging feeling that staying here wouldn't end well. That something horrible would happen to the girls if I remained. I wanted nothing more than to take the selfish choice, but I couldn't forgive myself if something happened to them.

So I shook my head, "I can't, and you guys know that I'm sure."

"Yeah, I expected it," Sarah said, "I'm sure you got a lot of important stuff you're going to need to do anyway, being who you are."

Maria agreed with her, although she sounded downtrodden with an obvious effort put in to try to brush it off, "It's fine, the lady told us you wouldn't be staying."

The lady.

Who was this lady? She sounded like something important to them. Would this lady know why I am being followed?

"What lady?" I asked, "Can I talk to her?"

Sarah shook her head, "If the lady wishes to talk to you, she'll tell you herself. We cannot tell you more."

Whoever the lady was, she sounded incredibly important. That gave me more determination in my decision. I had to find out who this lady was and talk to her. From what they'd said, she knew something about me that I don't. I would find out what that was, whether or not I got that from these girls.

"As I said though… I'll come visit you guys. I would love to get to know you all better," I tried and they all seemed at least mildly satisfied, "But right now, I must… explore. I need to find something, but I don't know what."

"You'd better visit, Half-Blood. Or I'll kick your ass," Birch said, trying to put on a macho girl pose, and failing hilariously, making us all laugh.

"Noted, Birch."

There were a few minutes of silence before I gathered my belongings together properly, shoving stuff into my bag, and rolling the sleeping bag up tightly.

"I'd better be off," I said, looking at the oversized watch I kept in my pocket, "The day ain't getting longer, and I've got a long way to walk ahead."

"Yes," Sarah announced, "Of course. You must be on your way. Now, may the gods grant you haste… Percy, was it? Go forth."

Maria squeezed me in a tight hug, "Good luck with whatever it is you search for."

* * *

I felt unnerved again while stepping onto the Brooklyn Bridge, for whatever reason. Looking around, I couldn't see anything that stood out to me – just the scowls of people who had to dodge around me as I stood in the middle of the pathway aimlessly.

They had told me I was being followed, and the whole journey here I had been ever so careful to watch out for someone, or something behind me, but saw nothing.

I continued down the path. There was only one way I could go if something did appear behind me now, and that was forward – forward for a very long way across New York's iconic bridge. Almost a mile and a half was the total distance if I remembered correctly. If I hurried, I could probably make it across in half an hour.

I made it nearly halfway across before the unease settled deep. It wouldn't attack me in such a public place, would it?

It was immediately apparent I hoped wrong as a deep baritone voice broke the silent air with a cackle, "You are very foolish, Half-Blood."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may at some point in the future end up going back and changing certain physical attributes of the Maple sisters. I haven't yet decided. It depends on how I want certain future... things to happen. That part of my story's plan I'm still deliberating over. I hope you've liked the story so far.
> 
> Fair warning, the Percy/Artemis relationship is a real slow burn in this story. I've listed it as that relationship because it's the eventual goal, but it's a long time before it'll become a thing.


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